Pick up my wings and fly 

into a Constable sky. 

Look down on the world and try 

to make you out on the distant ground. 

Lonely toy in a lost toy-town. 

Suspended in spiral sounds--- 

Sounds of circular breathing. 

  

I'm a kite on a silver thread. 

Daring lightning to strike me dead. 

Harsh echoes of things you said 

banished me to a thinner space 

with unholy ghosts of your bedroom face. 

Hands cupped to my ears to place 

the sound of circular breathing. 

  

Matchbox cityscape below---- 

I watch Lowry matchstick figures go. 

Caught in the timeless flow of discreet silence.